Heels Over Head
by xxLostxLovexx
Summary: The word fake was now an important word to Clary. The verb version, that is. It definitely wasn't an adjective. Fake could never describe her feelings toward Jace. The way she felt about him was the complete opposite. Real
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note; Hey Guess what people! Another story! I know crazy right? Oh well but yeahh Lol. Well here you goo.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the mortal Instruments.**

Clarissa Fray's history teacher has a voice like a lawn mower. When he yells, people jump back in fear, almost as if they think they'll get their fingers or toes caught in the blade.

When Clary wasn't listening, like now, it seemed like his voice was coming from outside, seeping in through the spaces around the window. It was muffled and hard to understand, yet she could still tell that he was talking. Sometimes she could discern a few of the words coming from his mouth. Her brain processed only a few, like TEST, or PROJECT, or CLARISSA ARE YOU LISTENING?

This particular day, Clary, along with the rest of her classmates, stood by the wall, waiting as Mr. Dante Landon, History teacher extraordinaire, stared at the new seating chart, flipping it over several times until he figured out which side was supposed to be up.

Mr. Landon seemed just as disappointed to be back in school after Christmas break as his students did. Second semester was his least favorite. Sure, with first semester you have much longer to go until summer, but at least you can still remember it. By second semester, the weather has changed, and everybody is bored of school, teachers included.

History was Clary's least favorite class, not only because of the teacher, but because of the lack of people to talk to. None of her friends appeared to be in this semester's class, just like last semester. When the first semester had ended, Clary had hoped that the next would contain at least one of her friends, but it appeared that she was not so lucky.

And so she stood, with her back to the wall, along with everybody else, and stared at the floor. She could smell the smoke off of the girl to her left's sweatshirt, and the boy to her right had greasy hair, and was whistling the Star Wars theme song.

The enhanced sound of the birds outside, which were getting a lot more attention from our main character than her teacher was, made it hard for Clary to hear the names that Mr. Landon was calling off. She knew he hadn't called her name, but wondered if he'd forgotten about her, by the time he'd reached the last row, which consisted of a measly two desks

"Wayland" An all-too-familiar head of blondish hair sat down in the first desk of the last row.

"Fray." Mr. Landon announced, sentencing Clary to her doom, as he turned and headed back to his desk.

Clary sunk into her desk, directly behind none other than Mr. Jace Wayland, somebody that she hadn't spoken to in nearly a year. Truth be told, she had thought that he'd moved, or gone back to homeschooling, as she hadn't seen him in quite a while.

_Maybe he's been avoiding me. _Clary thought to herself, before realizing how ridiculous that seemed. She stared into his back, bonier than she remembered it being, and saw that he seemed to have no problem at all with sitting near her. Why would he? Sure their relationship hadn't ended very well, but there was no reason for either of them to dislike the other. They were still friends. Sort of.

Clary opened her book, set her elbow in the crease, and stared out the window for several minutes, until a voice coming from the body in front of her shocked her out of her daydream.

"What?" Clary asked, suddenly breathless.

"Do you have an extra piece of paper?" Jace repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He looked so much different. There was something about the shape of his face that seemed unfamiliar. He almost didn't look like himself. Was his face thinner? That must be it. His hair wasn't as shiny either. Hmmm...

"Clary?" He waved his hand in her face, and she unlocked her eyes from his, embarrassed, and reached into her binder for a piece of paper.

"Thanks." He smiled at her, seemingly amused by her embarrassment.

Clary looked up at the board, to see what exactly Jace needed the paper for, and saw that the space under the word HOMEWORK on the board was blank. She looked around and saw that nobody else was doing any homework or writing notes. Most of them were sitting sideways in their desks, talking, and a select few were reading. Nobody but Jace was doing anything that involved a piece of paper and a pencil.

"What do you need it for?" She asked him.

"To write on." He answered, keeping his eyes on the paper.

"What are you writing?"

"Is it any of your business?"

"It's my paper." Clary announced, as if he didn't already know.

"So?"

"I can take it back." Jace ignored her, and turned back to the paper in front of him.

"So are you going to the party tonight?" She asked, changing the subject to something Jace would be more interested in. She knew that he was fully aware of the party she was talking about, so she didn't explain any further.

"Clary?"

"Yes?"

"Is there a reason you're being so annoying?"

"I am _not _annoying!" She objected, trying to sound hurt, while she knew he was only joking.

"You kind of are. Plus, you haven't talked to me in pretty much forever." He said, as if that meant that she couldn't talk to him now.

"Umm...I'm sorry? I haven't seen you around, so...I couldn't talk to you, since, you know, you weren't close enough to hear me."

He sighed and went back to scribbling on the mysterious paper in front of him. Clary tried to look over his shoulder, but that got her nowhere, since he was blocking it with his arm.

"So are you?" She asked again, aware of how annoying she was being, but not caring.

"I think so." He answered. Not yes. Not no. _I think so. _Clary didn't remember Jace ever being uncertain about anything before.

He continued to ignore her, so Clary gave up on trying to hold a conversation with the one person in the class who might actually talk to her, and stared at her history book, not actually reading it, until the bell rang.

Once the sound of the end of the school day finally rang through the hallways, Clary forgot all about Jace, and her hatred of History class, as she focused instead on getting home, where she would need to spend the next couple hours in her room with Izzy, getting ready for the Homecoming game party.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: Hmm Well I don't really know what to say about this chapter..it's very idk not my usual style of writing but oh well, Anyways here you guys go! Chapter 2!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments series. I just own my bf andddd Carlyyy lol :)**

Everything went as planned when she got home. Clary ate a delightful dinner of frozen pizza, while waiting for Izzy, and once she got there, they both went up to Clary's room to get ready. They weren't to worried about running late the people said to just show up.

Simon and Alec were immediately drawn to the refreshments, and while Izzy desperately wanted to go dance , she stayed by her friend's side, listening to her complaints about school, boys, and life in general.

When they got to the subject of Jace, Izzy couldn't help but to roll her eyes.

"_Claryy, _Please tell me you're not going down that road again." Izzy whined, stretching out her friend's name as long as she could.

"Izzy come on. He's not that horrible." Clary objected, as she caught sight of people in the doorway. She waved at the group of people coming in, and turned back to her friend.

"I think he hates me anyway."

"Why would he hate you?" Izzy asked, raising an eyebrow

"I sit behind him in History an-"

"Wait, he's going back to our school?"

"Yeah? Apparently" Clary replied while scanning the room.

"So why does he hate you? Did you stab him in the back with your pencil or something?" Izzy brought the subject back around.

"No, I just tried to talk to him today and he got all mad at me."

"Weird." Izzy said, tiring of Clary's story.

"OH MY GOSH IS that Sebastian Verlac?" She shouted, before running off to some place that was _no where near _where Clary was standing.

Clary resisted going after her, and instead, started greeting people, like she was supposed to be doing.

An hour into the party, she still hadn't caught sight of Jace, and was starting to give up hope that he would show. Despite the loud music, crazy dancing, and attendance of practically all of her friends, to Clary, the party still seemed pretty dull.

She didn't want to believe that she was upset that Jace hadn't shown up. As much as Izzy didn't want her going down Jace Street again, Clary wanted to stay away even more. They'd tried being friends, and they'd tried being more, and neither had really worked out. Clary wished she could say she'd given up on him, but she knew she couldn't.

The rest of the party was about the same as the beginning. By the end, Clary wanted desperately to go home. She was tired of hearing people call "Clary! So good to see you!" when she didn't have a clue who the person was. The cake was all gone but it didn't taste that good anyway, and the punch tasted pretty plain too.

She couldn't deny it, she _did _have fun, but Clary was lying when she told all of her friends that it had been the best party she'd ever been to. It hadn't been the _worst_, but it hadn't been all that fun. To say the least, Clary was awfully relieved when got back home.

She was in the shower and out in ten minutes, and in an equal amount of time, she was in bed asleep. In spite of how easily she'd fallen asleep, Clary was still extremely tired when she woke up the next morning. One thing she hated about being social was how late it kept her out on school nights.

In a zombie-like state, Clary went through the get-dressed-do-your-hair-eat-breakfast-brush-your-teeth routine and drove herself to school, where she went through the day like an actual student, paying attention only because she had nothing interesting to think about.

Clary found herself slightly disappointed when she got to Mr. Landon's classroom and everybody but Jace was in it. Fortunately, they had plenty of notes to take, so she didn't have to worry about passing the time at the end of class.

The next day, however, wasn't so pleasant. Jace still wasn't there, and they were finished after only one page of notes, leaving twenty minutes of class left, with nothing to occupy said minutes with.

333

By the time Monday came around, Clary was more exhausted than she'd been at the end of the school week. While everybody else had been sleeping in and catching up on their rest, Clary was busy running herself down even more with studying, hanging with Izzy and Simon and work.

The enthusiasm and energy of her classmates almost hurt. Watching people who _weren't _exhausted made her feel even more so. By the time she got to her last class of the day, though, everybody seemed to have run out of the energy they'd had all day, and for that, Clary was grateful. Everybody was finally quiet, and she could rest her head on her desk and zone out in peace.

While she was doing just that, Clary was interrupted by the screeching sound of the desk in front of her sliding on the floor. Opening one eye, she peered into the hair of Jace. He was facing the board, his back erect, paying more attention to Mr. Landon than all of the other students combined.

Clary found herself staring at one of his shoulder blades for at least ten minutes, until the lawn mower started up, and Mr. Landon started teaching. She scribbled her class notes across the paper, not looking, and missing the lines completely. While the teacher was lecturing a girl in the front row (Clary recognized her as the girl with the smoke sweatshirt) about the importance of healthy lungs, Clary just drew all over her notes. She drew mostly stick people, and wrote her name several different ways, before the class was back on track.

With fifteen minutes left of class, Mr. Landon went back to his desk, and the room exploded with the noise of a dozen people talking. Clary sat quietly in her desk, staring at her library book, but, again, not reading it, until somebody tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey," Jace whispered, "Do you have Thursday and Friday's notes?" She looked up into his eyes, this time for only a quick second, before nodding and flipping her notebook open. She handed him the book, he turned around, and she looked back down at the novel in front of her. She could hear him chuckle, and looked up again.

"Nice drawings." He said quietly, the words slipping over his shoulder and onto her desk. Clary could feel her cheeks turning red; Her eyes flitted down to her book again, embarrassment clearly identified within them.

Clary's eyelids slid shut and she rested her cheek on her textbook, while she waited for the bell to ring. What seemed like an eternity later, her notebook landed next to her nose, and a quiet "Thanks." came from Jace. Clary mumbled a "you're welcome", and sat back up.

"Oh hey, sorry I couldn't make it to the party, I've been sick." He apologized, his voice sincere.

"Oh, no problem. It wasn't that much fun anyway." She answered. Jace smiled in reply, just as the bell rang. He swiftly got up and was out the door before Clary could even stand up.

That night, Clary sat at the dinner table, doing her Spanish homework. It was hopeless though, as she couldn't concentrate, no matter how badly she wanted to.

She tried to read the short story in front of her, but none of it was making very much sense. She skipped down to the questions below it, and read the first one.

_1. ¿Qué Lola hizo a su cena? _What did Lola do to her dinner?

_Ella lo quemó. _Clary scribbled in. She burnt it.

A sigh escaped her, with nobody to hear it, and Clary closed her textbook. She couldn't think Spanish right now. All she knew was that _ella quiso Jace Wayland. _She wanted Jace Wayland..

333

That exact night, Jace seemed to be having a nightmare. It was dark on the other side of his eyelids, and he had a strange feeling that this wouldn't be all too happy of a dream.

In Jace's dream, he was alone, in a bathroom. It looked way too familiar, although he couldn't tell you who's it was. In the restroom, it was silent, until the sound of footsteps interrupted him. When he looked up and saw the girl in the doorway, Jace realized exactly to whom the bathroom belonged too.

"Jace." The word escaped her lips, and she smiled.

Her body moved gracefully toward him, and he could hear her shallow breathing.

"Why am I here?" He asked, holding his hand to his chest, slightly frightened by the malignant smile that covered her face. Her grin expanded her mouth even more, and suddenly, her fingers were on him, and then inside him. Her hands were under his skin, searching for something. He couldn't feel it, as this was a dream, and there was no blood, but it was just as frightening as it would have been in real life. Her hands were disturbing his skin, he looked like he was molting, his skin appeared to be bubbling. He didn't know what she was doing, but he didn't seem to have the ability to stop her.

She was searching, searching inside of him, without the use of her entirely white, pupil-less, eyes, until she found what she wanted. Her fingers grasped it tightly, and she yanked it out, tearing apart all of the threads that held it in. She removed her hands, and stood, staring with her eyes, - returning to their natural color- at the bloody, and pulsing object in her thin, pale hands.

Clarissa Fray had just stolen his heart.

**P.S: Soo what do you think? Love it? Hate It? Review and tell me :)**

**P.P.S: Don't forget to read my other stories too.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: Omg people I am soooo sorry I haven't updated anything in like forever please forgive me! I've been super busy with like school and babysitting annoying kids and yeahh soo I apologize for my un-updates on thing. I promise I will get back into gear here. But hey I got you this chapter right? And I made it longer too! YAY.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the mortal instruments series.**

At 6:23 AM the following day, two people woke up. You may be wondering why this is important; after all, with several trillion people occupying the planet we like to call Earth, it's not so odd for two people to be pulled from their slumber at the same time. In fact, it's probably a safe bet to say that several thousand people wake up at the same time every day. Who these two people _were, _however, is why this small fact has been included in this story.

On one side of town, the small silver alarm clock on the bedside table to Jace Wayland's right changed from 6:22 to 6:23. Without the sound of the alarm, or any noise at all, for that matter, to wake him, Jace opened his eyes anyway and shot up with a gasp. He shivered, despite the four blankets smothering his bed. Jace wasn't so sure as to what exactly had been waking him up every morning, but it was starting to annoy him.

He turned to look at the clock, and let out a disappointed sigh when he saw the time. Yet again, he had woken up just minutes before the alarm was set to go off. He hit the off button and shoved the blankets off of him, before sliding his legs out, exposing them to the chilly air occupying his bedroom. His feet hit the floor, and a mild pain shot through his ankles, due to the force. Pushing himself out of bed, Jace felt around with his foot for the sweatpants he'd left on the shadow covered floor the night before. Once his foot made contact with the soft fabric, he bent over to grab them, and pulled the pants on. They didn't help his body temperature, but it was sort of a routine, by now. They were comfortable.

His arms clawed at the air, as he stretched out. He could hear his back crack, and he let out a tired sigh, wiping the cold sweat off his face.

Yet another morning for Jace.  
Shouldn't he be happy?

Fourteen Streets, One Avenue and six houses away, Clary Fray's alarm started going off. You might think it's odd that she set her alarm for such an odd time as 6:23, but Clary despised fives, and what's so exciting about 6:24?

A hand shot out for the on/off switch, almost like a reflex. Clary rubbed her eyes before she opened them, and sniffed the air, for a hint as to what her mother had made for breakfast. It smelled like French toast, but she couldn't be too sure.

Clary smiled, thinking about how when her brother had lived at home, it hadn't been safe to use your nose so early in the morning. Or any time at all, really. As celebration for his moving away to college (hardly anybody could believe he'd actually been accepted, let alone _wanted _to go) Clary inhaled as much air through her nose as she could. Yes, definitely French toast.

She flung the sheets back and forced herself out of bed. She slid her feet across the floor, until she made it into the bathroom. The doorknob shocked her, courtesy of the static electricity built up by moving across the room without lifting her feet. She splashed some cold water in her face, patted it dry with a towel, and looked up into the mirror. Boy, wasn't that scary?

Clary closed her eyes and turned around to face the shower. She slid the curtain back and grasped the cold metal handle, to turn on the water. While she waited for the water to heat up, Clary attempted to untangle her hair. Once she'd given up on that, she stuck her hand into the water spraying from the shower head. It was getting warmer, and she estimated that by the time she was completely undressed, it would be just warm enough. And so she undressed, and so she was right.

Once out of the shower, Clary wrapped a nice, clean, untainted towel around her, and smiled, thinking of how clean the laundry was, now that Jonathan's annually washed clothes weren't included in the washing machine.

She checked the clock once she was back in her room, and then hurried to find something to wear. Once she'd decided, she ran back to the bathroom to do her hair. The warm air from the blow drier felt good where it slid off her damp hair, and onto her shoulders.

Clary had quite a lot of energy, for having just waken up. It usually took her at least an hour to be fully awake, but today seemed different. It was 6:54, and she felt as if she'd been awake for hours. It seemed to her like this day would be a great one.

Oh wait. It was only Tuesday.  
Clary changed her mind.

When the clock struck 8 o' clock, 99.3 percent of Hamilton High's student body (The other .7 percent being absent) all headed for their lockers. This, however, was not strange at all, for, as you can expect, the bell always rang at that time.

One thing, however, was different that day. Clary stood by her locker, struggling with her lock, like she often did. This time, however, instead of being late to class because of her incompetent padlock, like she usually was, a hand pressed up against the locker to her left, behind her.

"Need some help?" A voice asked.

"I do, actually." She looked up at Jace. "I think my lock hates me."

He smiled and reached for the lock. He looked up at her, wondering if she expected him to guess the combination.

"Oh, 12-09-34." She told him, her face red.

Jace spun the lock, and with a click, it opened. He smiled at her, lightly smacked his knuckles on the locker net to hers, and walked away. Clary resisted the urge to turn around and watch him leave, and instead hurried to get her books out of her locker before the bell rang.

By the time lunch rolled around, Clary'd been loaded with a mountain of homework. She had two of her textbooks in the cafeteria with her, attempting to do her homework in any free time she had, while Izzy and Simon were arguing quietly (for them) across from her. Lunch went by extremely fast, and it seemed like skipping her meal to do homework had been a waste of time, since she hadn't really gotten any further, and was now suffering the annoyance of her rumbling stomach.

Clary let out a sigh and slammed her book shut, reaching for another fry from Izzy's tray. They weren't any good. The fries were cold and uncooked, but she ate them anyway. It probably wasn't a good idea, though. Even Simon wasn't eating his. Simon, would eat almost anything, no matter what it looked, felt, or tasted like, so Clary knew that these fries must be pretty horrible. She couldn't really taste them though, and she was hungry, so she ate them. She'd probably end up with food poisoning.

When the bell rang, Clary was just as disappointed that lunch was over as she usually was, if not more so. She didn't want to go to class, where she knew she'd only get more homework.

Just as she suspected, Clary's next class brought a _huge_ calculus assignment, which she didn't understand at _all. _To say that she wasn't good at math was an understatement.

By the time last hour rolled around, Clary's brain had simply shut off. It refused to do any more work for the rest of the day. She was especially relieved that History was her last classes of the day, seeing as Mr. Landon often forgot to assign homework to his last hour class.

Luck seemed to be on Clary's side, when Mr. Landon put in a History Channel video about the Bubonic Plague. It was slightly interesting at first, but there's only so much you can babble about when it comes to the Plague. The narrator got repetitive, the video got boring, and Clary got sleepy. With the lights off and the monotonous noise coming from the TV, it was easy for her to fall asleep. She was instantly out, like a candle, until the lights flickered back on, signaling the end of the video.

When Clary sat up, she could feel the imprint of the book she'd been using as a pillow, in her face. She rubbed at it, as if that would actually help, and blinked a couple times, while her eyes burned in the bright light.

"Have a nice nap?" Jace's voice drifted over.

"Oh yes. Lovely." She let out a yawn and then frowned, as Mr. Landon got up from his seat and plucked a dry erase marker from the ledge. He wrote the word PROJECT in big capital letters, and tried to underline it, accidentally slashing through the word in the process. The class let out a loud disappointed moan, but they were cut off when the teacher started explaining the project.

From the translation her partner later gave her, Clary found out that the project turned History into English for a week. They were required to write a skit about the effects of the Bubonic Plague. Or something like that... Nobody could really understand Mr. Landon when he was tired, and this appeared to be one of those days.

Once he was finished explaining the project, stood at the front of the room, with his index finger pressed to his chin.

"I'm gonna try to pair you all up evenly. We don't want a group where one person does everything and the other just sits there." The class sighed in disappointment. "So, you and you." He pointed to two girls in the first row. "And...you and you" two people on opposite sides of the room. "You two, you and...you there, with the bloodshot eyes, you two, you and you...and that leaves Clary and Jace."

At that exact moment, Clary's stomach growled especially loud, and she feared that the whole class could hear it. It seemed to have gotten deathly quiet, the second had paired Jace and herself together. However, nobody seemed to have noticed, and it seemed more likely that her ears had turned off, than that the whole class had gone silent, Claryy decided, when everybody started moving around the room and talking to their partner like it had never gone quiet.

Jace turned around in his seat and set his elbows on Clary's desk, curling his hands up under his chin.

"So. Do you want to write this, or should I?"

Clary blinked and mumbled,

"Umm...You're the smart person."

"It's not that hard" He replied.

"I can't act." Clary said in a matter of fact voice. Slightly hoping that it would help her get out of writing the skit. She knew if she did it probably wouldn't sound right.

"You don't have to know how to act to write a script." Jace replied. He licked his lips, and then yawned.

"You do it. I'm not smart enough to write it." Jace let out a light chuckle, and one of the hands twisted up under his chin slid up to his cheek, where he rested it.

"You are too." It was a pointless argument, and both of them knew it.

"Oh come on. When's the last time I did something even _remotely _smart?" She asked, scratching the side of her head with her left hand, while the right was busy picking up and dropping her pencil over and over.

"Just now. Stupid people don't say remotely."

Clary wrinkled her nose, dropped her pencil one last time, and said,

"Whatever." As if that ended the argument.

"How about this? You write a sentence, I'll write a sentence. We can take turns."

Jace's hands both fell from his neck to the desk, the left crossed over the right. Clary glanced down at them, and then looked up at his face, before her eyes were drawn back to his wrists again, in a matter of seconds. Jace seemed to notice the look on her face, and hurriedly, but as inconspicuously as possible, pulled them back into his lap. Clary said nothing about the bruises she'd just seen circling his wrists like bracelets, and instead cleared her throat.

"Umm...yeah. Okay." Jace's Adam's apple was more noticeable as he swallowed nervously and nodded in agreement, suddenly very quiet. Clary watched him anxiously tug at his shirt sleeves, and took note on the fact that he was wearing a long sleeve shirt on what was possibly one of the warmest days they'd had in a month.

Jace's eyes skitted around the room before they landed on Clary's face again.

"So, uhh, how about we stop by the library after school?" He asked.

"I have to stop by the studio real quick to help my mom set something up for the new class she is starting, so how about I meet you there at like, 4:30?"

Jace simply nodded in agreement, and turned around to face the front of the room, where nothing even halfway exciting was happening. It was the only part of the room he could look at, though, without being examined by the girl behind him. He could practically feel her staring at his back, but there was nothing on or about his back that would tell her anything.

The last two and a half minutes of class passed by slowly, for both Clary _and_ Jace. Even the bell seemed to take longer than usual to finish ringing. By the time the ringing ceased, the only person left in the classroom was .

Clary hurried to her locker, shoved about half of it's contents into her bag, slammed it shut and high-tailed it out of the building.

She threw open the driver's side door of her car, tossed her bag into the passenger seat, and was out of the parking lot within minutes. The problem, you see, is that the recording studio was a good 25 minutes from the school. And as Clary only had 15 to get there by 3, she had to push the speed limit a little.

Clary pulled into the parking lot of the studio at 3:30. She walked into the studio door. She saw her mom appear from behind the back.

"Hey Honey, it's 3:30. You're late." Her mom said with a smile as she went to lift up a box.

"Sorry Mom traffic was crazy."

"It's okay just start putting these boxes over to the other side of the room."

Clary nodded and started lifting box, after box, after box. After about 40 minutes she was done. She walked back into the back room told her mom that she was done and that she had to go meet Jace at the library to do a history assignment. Her mom nodded her head and Clary hurriedly went to her car and rushed home.

Because of the rain, Clary was cold, so she turned the heat on low, to help dry out her clothes, and pressed her foot to the brake. She put the car in reverse and slid out of her parking spot, before turning back onto the familiar highway.

Not wanting to risk a ticket more than once, Clary went the speed limit all the way home. All she needed was to get pulled over. Of course, there was less traffic at this time, so the trip to her house took about the same amount of time, going the speed limit, as the trip to the studio had taken, ten mph over.

Clary left her car running in the driveway, and dropped her bag in the hallway, before rushing up to her bedroom to change her clothes. She didn't try too hard to look nice. It was raining, after all, and she was only going to the library. Besides, it was only Jace.

Rushing back down the stairs, this time in a white camisole with a dark red, slightly too-tight polo over it, Clary dropped to her knees next to her bag and pulled out a notebook and a pencil, all she'd need once she got to the library.

Once she stood up, Clary quickly glanced at the mirror she'd dropped her bag beneath, and hurriedly fixed her dampened hair. The rain had undone the straightening she'd spent so much time on that morning, but it didn't look too horrible. She pulled her shirt down a little. It was too small, but she didn't have the time to go look for something else.

This time, Clary put on a jacket, and pulled the hood up before going back out into the rain. She hurried to her still-running car and climbed into the driver's seat. She put the wipers on a higher speed, and turned the radio down.

Clary killed the engine at exactly 4:25, dropped her keys into her purse, and entered the library. She took the stairs up to the second level, where she and Jace would be doing their research. Her eye's raked through the room, searching for Jace, who didn't seem to be there yet. Clary sat down at a table in the back of the room. She answered a text from Izzy, put on some Chap stick, and set her purse on the floor by her feet, only a second before the chair next to her was pulled out.

Jace sat down, a couple books in his hands, and smiled at her. Clary grabbed the one from the top of the stack, and opened it. She flipped a couple pages, and started reading. A couple minutes into the most boring chapter you could possibly read in a book about thousands of people dying, Clary was interrupted by somebody pulling gently on her hair. She looked up, and Jace had a strand of her hair between his index finger and thumb. He smiled at her and said,

"I like your hair better curly." Clary bashfully smiled back, mumbled "Sorry" and looked back down at her book. Thanks to Jace, she found herself unable to concentrate. She kept glancing up at him, unaware that he was doing the same thing every time she looked down. A couple of minutes later, they both happened to look up at the same time.

Looking into each other's eyes, something felt different.

**P.S: soo what did you think? Like it or hate it? I know it's not as good as the last chapter but I promise I will try to make the next chapter as interesting as possible! ****J**** Please review I love you all ****J**


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: SOO I know this is like tottaly late. But I'm going to try and update every Wednesday again cause that seemed to work the best when I first did it but I'm getting really busy lately with school and drama club and a whole bunch of other stuff. But yeah well here you guys go another chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the mortal instruments series but I do own the best bf whoo might go be going to homecoming with me! Exciting right? Yeah it is lol.**

Clary and Jace sat in silence, following the library's number one rule, for nearly half an hour, flipping through books that they really were not learning anything from. Both were afraid to speak again, so they simply skimmed through the books in front of them, trying to find some facts to write down on the blank piece of paper placed in front of each of them.

Jace cleared his throat, glancing sideways at his partner several times, while she wasn't looking. Clary sneezed, said "excuse me", and continued to pretend to learn.

"Are you actually reading?" Jace whispered to her, finally keeping eye contact when she looked up at him, instead of looking away, like he had been doing.

"No." Clary answered, trying to stop herself from smiling.

"Good. Me neither." Jace grinned, and Clary quit trying to hide her smile. "Do you want to go do this somewhere else...or something?" Jace asked, sounding nervous, for a reason that was beyond Clary's level of comprehension.

"Like where?"

"How about...McDonalds?"

"Why, do you know of a plague-infected McDonald's employee we could interview or something?" Clary kidded.

"No. I just want a Big Mac. Plus, I don't like how quiet it is here. I want to be able to talk."

Without saying anything, Clary stood up, walked over to the shelf to put her book away, and turned to face Jace.

"Are you coming?"

...

Clary pressed the button under the Coke, filling her cup to the top, before putting a lid on it, shoving a straw through the hole, and sitting down in a booth, across from Jace, some chicken strips, and a small fry.

Shoving a fry into her mouth using only her index finger, Clary flipped her still-damp hair over her shoulder before saying anything.

"So who gets to die?"

"Hmmm...I think I should get to be the hunky doctor who saves the beautiful woman from dying. Sounds good, right?"

"Is that supposed to be a complement?"

"Only if it doesn't insult you." Jace replied, before taking a bite of his Big Mac.

"Then thank you." Clary smiled at him. "Wait so I have to be the sick one?"

"Well, I could do it, I guess...but I think I'd make a much better doctor than you would..."

"Now that's an insult."

"I'm sorry." He apologized

"I'm sure you are."

"So I'm the doctor, and you're the patient?" Clary nodded, as she had food in her mouth and didn't want to speak, in fear of spitting food all over him. "Do you have a pencil?" Jace asked, setting his Big Mac down on the wrapper. Clary reached into her purse and pulled out a pencil. "What about a piece of paper?"

"Wow, you sure come prepared, don't you?" She answered, rolling her eyes, but still reaching into her purse for something for him to write on.

"You could always write it..." Jace offered.

"No thank you. I have chicken germs on my fingers..."

"Good excuse." Jace replied, rolling his eyes.

Over the next two hours, Clary and Jace took turns, line by line, coming up with the rough draft of their history project. Jace did all of the writing, so of course he was the designated typist, since there was no way that anybody else could read his handwriting.

Instead of leaving after they were finished, the two of them stayed in their booth, talking, for another hour.

"How long do you think we can stay here before they kick us out?" Clary finally asked, concerned that she was loitering.

"I think you have another ten minutes. They wouldn't kick me out though. How many customers did they get in the past hour that just came in because they saw me through the window?"

"At least ten."

"It was eleven." Jace corrected.

"Whatever."

Clary glanced out the window, into the dark sky. It must be getting late. She started to dig through her purse, to find her phone so she could check the time, but was rudely interrupted.

"That guy looks mad. Let's go." Jace whispered, grabbing a hold of her arm and pulling her out of the booth, as a man in a McDonald's uniform ironically stomped towards them.

Jace kept his grip on Clary's arm all the way out to his truck, hoping that she thought it was because of the fact that the furious kicker-outer was behind them, and not just because he didn't want to let go.

"Did you see the unibrow on that guy?" Clary asked, when she climbed into the passenger's seat, "It looked like somebody's cat fell asleep on his forehead!"

"I know!" Jace replied, laughing, as he backed out of his parking space.

Clary glanced at the clock, and was shocked by the time.

"8:40? How'd it get so late?"

"Oh, don't pay any attention to that." Jace told her. "I think when I hit a pole it messed up the clock."

"Oh...that's weird." Clary said while pulling her hair into a pony-tail.

"You're weird." Jace replied, sticking his tongue out.

"Real mature, Jace."

"You're mature." He said, before laughing.

"Obviously I'm much more mature than you." Jace smiled at her again, and asked,

"Do you want me to just take you back to the library for your car, or..."

"I don't really wanna go home yet..." Clary replied.

"We could go back to my house, or something..."

"Okay." Jace glanced at her, before returning his attention to the road. He made another right turn, and then a left, before he spoke again.

"You know, I don't think we've talked like this for over a year."

"Yeah I know. It's kind of weird."

"Weird?"

"Well...it's weird that...it's not weird. If that makes sense."

"It doesn't." Jace joked.

"I didn't think so."

Finally, Jace turned into his driveway. The garage door opened when he pressed a button on the garage door opener.

"I've always wanted one of those things." Clary commented.

"Eh, they're kind of a hassle." He tapped the remote with his index finger "It only opens about half the time. Usually we have to push it open."

"Still, at least your neighbors can't get in and egg your car..." Jace raised an eyebrow, with half of a smile on his face.

"Our neighbors are very hateful..."

"Sounds like it." Jace pulled his truck into the garage, and turned off the engine.

He got out of the truck, and was on Clary's side before she even had one foot on the ground.

"If you want to play, I can kick your butt at Guitar Hero."

"_You _kick _my _butt? I think it's the other way around, _buddy_."

"Prove it."

...

"Point proven." Clary teased, sticking her tongue out at Jake, after beating him miserably at Guitar Hero.

"How'd you do that? Do you spend all of your free time practicing? Nobody's ever beat me before...You cheated!"

"I did not cheat. Maybe you just suck, and nobody else wants to bruise your ego, so they let you win. Ever think of that?"

"Maybe I did." Jake retorted, his face only inches from hers.

"You didn't." He only shrugged, setting his guitar down. "Want something to drink?" He asked, heading into the kitchen.

"No thanks. I should probably get going soon." Clary grabbed a hold of her wrist, looking down at it, like she was wearing a watch, when, in fact, she wasn't.

Jake looked at the time on the microwave quickly, and nodded.

"Yeah, it's getting late. I'll take you back to the library."

The ride to the library seemed much shorter than the ride away from it, and Jace and Clary had barely any time for a conversation.

"You were speeding, weren't you?" Clary asked, smiling as she got out of the car. It was still raining, but only lightly drizzling. She reached into her purse for her keys, and looked back up at Jake to say goodbye.

"...Maybe." They both laughed, and Jace reached over to turn the heat down in his too warm truck. He stared at Clary for a moment, mesmerized by the way she looked, with the dark, gloomy clouds behind her.

"Well...I had a lot of fun...and I think we might have a chance of not failing."

"Yeah, maybe we can get a D! We'd probably have the best grade in the class..."

"Sadly, we probably would...Anyway...I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for dinner and stuff..."

"No problem." Jace said, adding the last bit of awkwardness to an awkward conversation.

"Goodnight, then."

"Yeah, goodnight."

Clary headed for her car, and had her hand on the handle, about to open the door, before she was spun around, and Jace's lips were attached to hers, the fingers of his left hand wrapped around her right arm, and his other hand on the door behind her. When he pulled away, they were both breathing heavily.

"Umm...what would you think about going to the Homecoming dance with me?"

"I'd love to Even though it'd start a lot of rumors..."

"I'll tell them I just found out that you're my sister."

"What you just did is a pretty weird thing to do to your sister."

"Yeah, I guess...oh well. Who cares about rumors? People with brains know they're not true, and those are the only people that matter, right?"

"Exactly." Clary replied. "Umm...goodnight Jace...before I get soaked all the way through..."

"Yeah...Okay...Goodnight." He finally let go of her arm, and stood up straight.

"See you tomorrow." Clary simply nodded, before climbing into her car.

She didn't start the engine until Jace had driven away, and when she finally _did _put the key in the ignition, she was delayed from leaving by the sound of her phone vibrating in her purse. She quickly dug through her bag to find it.

"Hello?"

"You owe me big time. Your dad just called asking where you were. I told him you were here, and he believed me...But where _are _you?"

"I'm so sorry Izzy, I didn't realize it was so late. Jace and I were working on our history project.

"You were with Jace? _Clary."_

"Don't _Clary _me! We were working on a school project. The teacher paired us up, I had nothing to do with it."

"Yeah, you worked on a project. That's why you can't just tell your dad that. He wouldn't believe you."

"And neither do you. I know. I have to go now, Izzy. But thank you, very very much. I owe you."

"I'm holding you to that."

"I promise."

Little did Clary know, she'd be owing Izzy a lot more over the course of the next several months.

**P.S: So what did you think? Sorry it's late I really have nooo clue where I'm going with this story. But review! Pleaseee. I'm also using this story for a school project soo I need to know what you people think.**


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